


May I Take Your Order? (Starbucks AU)

by esmeeeeme



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst and Humor, Bad Puns, Based on a Tumblr Post, Dick Jokes, Even worse flirting, Eventual Romance, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Haytham Being An Asshole, Haytham's A+ Parenting, I'm kidding, M/M, Mostly humor but there's some sad stuff every now and then, Multi, Pining, Ships still pending, Slow Build, Starbucks AU, Taking a lot of liberation with the coffee things, Team as Family, Unresolved Romantic Tension, don't mind me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmeeeeme/pseuds/esmeeeeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stories and adventures that goes on in a small college campus Starbucks with the flirty barista, the ex-bartender, the angry one and his notboyfriend, and of course, the tall new guy that is starting to realize that working there is the best and worst thing that happened in his life. </p><p>The fact that they haven't been fired still surprises the customers as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know, hella late. But y'all, I had too much fun with this fanfic. I mean, it's a Starbucks AU. Who doesn't like Starbucks AUs? Anyways, first official actually posted fanfic for the AC fandom, I feel greatly welcome here. This fanfic is mainly spired by maliks-butt's "shows up 15mins late with a Starbucks cup" Starbucks AU! I know you're trying to quit, but I couldn't help but write it. Also, this was mostly written one tablet, so there might be some errors but I think that they aren't that bad. I'm trying my best here folks. But anyways, I don't own Assassin's Creed. If I did, Unity would be released for PS3. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The only work experience Connor had was helping around in a pet shop.

He didn't get paid much back then, but then again, his salary was videogames and new books. Money was more of a background thing for him. Why? Because he was surrounded by animals, specifically puppies and dogs. Seeing that he wasn't exactly an employee, he didn't have a strict schedule. All he had to do was come in and help when he could. Connor made the most of it, though. 9 to 3, 12 to four, sometimes even all day on the weekend. If he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't go.

Transportation wasn't much of an issue for him. The pet shop was next door to his mom's independent business. A little, successful antique shop. He remembered spending most of his childhood in there with her. Always a comfortable place to go to. He also helped around there when he wasn't with his friends or at the shop.

The pet shop was small, but it still required a lot of work. He helped out the owner when one of the golden retrievers had puppies. He swept the floors, cleaned the outside of the aquariums. He took the dogs for walks, played with the cats to keep them entertained.

It was the best summer job of his life.

But that job, it was during the summer before 8th grade. He was barely Not exactly resume material.

He did get a Labrador puppy named Jack at the end of the summer though.

As time progressed, Connor soon transitioned to high school. Some of his friend moved away, others eventually drifted from his life. He made new friends, fought through assignments and learn to enjoy high school.

Sure, that enjoyment came near the ending of each year, but those were minor details.

After turning sixteen, Connor remembered asking his mom relentlessly if he could get a job. Trying to help her with the bills, making sure she was okay, anything. But everytime he tried, his mom said no, saying that he didn't owe her anything. And that she had enough to support the both of them with her little antique shop.

Eventually, he snuck around her to see if the pet shop was open still to apply for a job, but to his dismay, it had been shut down for three months.

With that out of the plan, he gave up on job hunting and went to continue his life.

After the nightmare that were driver's ed, he got his license. At 18, he got accepted into the university in New York City. The only response his mother had to him was "Thank god you're not going abroad," and she hugged him tightly.

After sitting through the worst two hours of waiting of his life, he got an email reply of when to have him for the interview.

It was his first interview ever. Job related, that was. There was one interview he had before and that was in the first grade when the fifth graders of the school broadcasting team asked him how he made his solar system model. It was his shining moment still to this day.

When he let out the loudest sigh of relief seeing the email that they accepted his application, his roommate Clipper, a freshman also, asked him what had happened.

Half an hour later, Clipper was teaching him the do's and don'ts of job interviews.

Which led to him sitting in one of the leather chairs in Clipper's suit outside of the owner's office of the college campus local Starbucks.

Like he was taught in that business class he took one semester, the best thing to do after being asked for an interview was to send an email and thank them. So that's what he did.

The owner of the coffee shop was a lively, kind Italian man. Mario di Auditore, who insisted for Connor to just call him Mario, or Uncle Mario if he preferred. The interview had gone smoothly. Questions were asked, Connor replied honestly. And it was hard to be uncomfortable around Mario when the guy made everything feel a little less tense.

"Tell me Connor, is this your first job?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's okay! The others can show you the ropes around here. They're all students, you know. Some are new to this also. You'll maybe see some familiar faces!"

_Save for Clipper and Dobby, most of the familiar faces in my life are in the valley so I kind of highly doubt it…_

Still, Connor gave his new boss a smile and said, "That would be great, Mr. Auditore."

"I am going to send your class schedule to the shift supervisor. He's going to be the one in charge of working around your classes," Mario replied. "We can start on Monday, if that is good with you."

_Whenever. I have no social life. Please hire me, now. I could use a job._

"Monday sounds good."

" _Fantastico!_ Welcome aboard, Connor!"

Mario stood up and shook Connor's hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Mr. Auditore."

"You're very much welcome, Connor. I look forward for you to be part of the team!"

Maybe it was the economically almost broke part of his speaking, but Connor did too.

* * *

The crisp autumn September air greeted him as he made his way to the cafe. Normally, he would see people coming from Starbucks around this hour but now, it was him going to Starbucks to work.

It sounded a whole lot better in his head.

Connor shrugged the coat more closer around him, looking down at his phone. Dobby, one the first friends he made in Manhattan, sent him a message saying "Good luck!" Clipper sent him one too, not being able to tell him himself because of his morning class.

He finally slowed to a stop in front of the empty Starbucks. He looked at his phone again. Did he show up too early?

_Mario said to be there half an hour before the shift starts...It's half an hour._

"Screw it, I'm going in."

Connor went inside the cocoa-coffee scented shop, already feeling warmer than he had outside.

Just to make sure again, he looked down at his phone to see if he was at the right time,

"You must be the new guy!"

Connor looked up.

A tall, tanned guy in a green apron was putting down the chairs from the tables. Upon seeing his face, Connor knew that he had seem him around before. But something gave off about his accent, reminding him of Mario…

Oh right. Said tall guy was referring to him.

"Uh yeah. Hi. That would be me, the new guy."

The guy pushed the last chair into place at the brushed his hands quickly on the apron and extended his hand, smiling. "I'm Ezio and I'll be showing you the ropes around today," he said.

Connor shook his hand in return. Things were going off to a good start. "I'm Connor."

"The others should be getting here soon. Do you know where to clock in?"

"Um…." Connor rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. Should he tell him that he didn't know how to clock in?

"This is my first job, ever. So I don't really…."

Sensing his discomfort, Ezio patted his shoulder. "It's fine. I'll show you in a little open in half an hour, we're just setting up for the day. For now, we can finish setting up the chairs."

"Sounds good."

"I feel like I've seen you before."

"I have you for two classes. English and Philosophy."

"That's where I know you from!"

Connor set to put the stools on the counter go back down to their proper places.

"Um, Mario said that all I had to wear was a white collar shirt and and black pants so..." Connor motioned to his black jeans and shoes.

"No worries, you're fine. There's an apron separated for you. We can put your jacket in the break room."

"Cool, cool."

"Yeah, I know the first day is always weird. But hey, you'll get the hang of this. Uncle Mario believes in you."

"New kid?"

A man with short black hair was tying his apron.

"Yep. Connor, meet Desmond."

"Barista and cashier," Desmond finished tying his apron, extending his hand to shake.

"I'll show him around the back with inventory."

"Oh yeah, tell him about Malik," Desmond reminded Ezio.

"I will," Ezio assured before he led Connor to the back.

* * *

Desmond had a few minutes of solitude as he turned on the cash register and the lights at the counter. The stools were already in place thanks to Ezio and Connor so he didn't have to do that.

Like he used to do at the bar, he decided to wipe down the counter. What can he say? Old habits died hard. While working at Starbucks had its perks, (free coffee and chocolate chip muffins fresh out of the oven when Malik wasn't watching) he missed the bar. Owner of it didn't pay some certain bills, or something like that, and they had to shut it down.

Desmond remembering being sad. And angry. Back then, being a bartender wasn't exactly high income, but it was enough for him right now. Enough to not worry about drowning in student loans for the moment being.

But Starbucks was great. The staff were great though. A little weird, but they were great. Unlike his previous job where he only talked to Clay and his boss, he actually talked with all of the baristas. They were fun, honest, loving people-

"Good morning dipshit."

Well, most of them anyways.

Altair Ibn-La'Ahad walked past Desmond at the counter and promptly sat down on one of the stools. He looked angry, but soon Desmond got to learn that that was just his face.

"Hey wassa-matta-you, Altair?" Desmond asked, grinning to himself as the Syrian barista rolled his eyes and flipped him off. It was his way of greeting him every morning. It wasn't a normal day if Desmond hadn't said that, just to make him mad.

"Go fuck yourself, Miles," Altair said, annoyed. "It's too early for this shit."

Desmond knelt down, searching for the spray bottle and rag to wipe down the counter with. "Now, now, now, Altair," he said using the tone of a scolding kindergarten teacher, sneering to himself when he heard an annoyed groan from him. "What did we say about swearing on the job?" he asked.

Desmond stood back up to spot Altair glaring at him, unamused.

"First off Miles, we haven't even opened yet. And second, go fuck yourself, again," Altair said.

"Y'know, we should keep a swear jar instead of a tip jar. All profits go to everyone except you."

"And third," Altair ignored Desmond. "Malik isn't here to lecture me on moral code ethics, so whatever."

Malik was the shift supervisor. He was a financing/market major and he made sure to keep everyone in check, following the Starbucks rules and codes of conduct, etc etc. Desmond was pretty sure it was just to keep Altair in check too. Ezio wasn't as much of a hassle than Altair.

He was also Altair's best friend. Desmond and everybody else still called him the notboyfriend because honestly, everyone but them two saw the unresolved romantic tension.

While it was amusing to see them banter, it would still frustrate just about everyone because even they could feel the second hand romantic/possible sexual tension.

"Should each word be worth a different amount?" Desmond asked.

"Like you don't use swear words."

"I'm not denying it, but guess what? When I do, it's not on the job."

"Shut upppp."

"Jesus, what's up with you? You're acting so prissy that it rivals Shaun."

"Please don't compare me to that Earl Grey inhaling asshole."

_Earl Grey inhaling asshole. Well, that's new._

Desmond let him continue. Altair rubbed his eyes. "And the reason why I'm bitchy right now is because I got approximately two hours of sleep last night."

Thinking back on the previous night, Desmond remembered getting to their shared apartment at 7 and falling asleep right away. He was that tired. So he didn't notice Altair come home.

"Why?"

"I was with Malik helping him move his things into his new apartment, then I got home around 11. I stayed up until four to study for some test and guess what that asshole Dr. Vidic did? He canceled it!"

"Oh did he now?" Desmond asked sarcastically, not paying much attention to Altair's constant bitching. He learned to do that in his previous job as a bartender. Some of the customers at the bars had interesting stories, but not all of them. appearing to be listening but really just tuning them out.

And he had heard enough stories about the infamous professor Dr. Vidic for biochemical studies from Lucy Stillman, one of his friends, to know that the doctor was a really strange, intimidating man and Desmond kinda really wanted to stay away from him as much as possible.

"Fuck Vidic, okay? He's an asshole."

"Why did he cancel the test?"

"He broke his ankle! Can you believe that guy?"

Only then did Desmond sigh, thinking to himself again for the third time about how he managed to be best friends with Altair again. One of the most arrogant, self centered assholes around, yet Desmond still was best friends with him.

"Remind me again why I still live with you?" Desmond asked.

"My charming personality and share of the rent," Altair replied.

"Fair enough."

Before Altair could continue, Connor and Ezio returned to the counter, this time having Connor with a green apron and his own name tag.

"This is where you'll be working for the morning. We're all technically baristas here, save for Malik and Uncle Mario."

"Did you tell him about Malik?"

"Yeah, I told him. Don't worry," Ezio patted Altair's shoulder. "He's a good kid and you got him for the first hour. Don't make him cry."

Altair turned to Connor and greeted him with a deadpanned "Hey nerd. Welcome to Starbucks. I'm Altair and you're working the counter with me today. Get to it."

And just like that, Connor began his first official job at Starbucks. Feeling a nervous, excited and slightly intimidated.

He still counted it as a win anyways.


	2. The Manager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, has it. He..hehehe….hehe *ded*
> 
> Sosososo sorry this took so damn long to do. And a very amazing and heartfelt thank you to the bene squad who helped in the process of making this fic happen.
> 
> A huge thank you to the bene squad: Anna (somecreed], Arielle (templarsandhoes), Tay (anderskitten), Liz (stleverogers) and Renee (redheadthunderhead) who helped beta and edit this fic and make sure i didn't make mistakes. Y'all are the best squad anyone can ask for. 3 Go follow their blogs.

It was seven in the morning and Malik hated the day already.

His alarm didn't wake him up, the sun was shining smack dab in the middle of his face, why the fuck did he forget to put up curtains in his new apartment, god no, today was not his day.

He groaned out loud, knowing he'd have a terrible bedhead to deal with soon. Short hair be damned; everything was a bitch to deal with when you didn't have coffee.

Right, why the hell was he a business major again? He asked himself that every single time this happened. This being waking up late. Normally, it would be  _why did I stay up watching that stupid marathon of Ghost Adventures,_ but as of right now, it was the business major one.

Slumbering around half unpacked boxes in his bedroom, he found the outfit he needed for the day, or whatever looked decent. He didn't even need to make his bed, because he didn't have one. It was just a new mattress, with a blanket and pillow.

Work, school, and now this bullshit. New furniture, new groceries, being an adult is hard and he wouldn't recommend it to nobody, but alas, he had to deal with it.

* * *

"So, as you know, we have sizes: tall, grande and venti. Trenta also if you believe in yourself and have one hell of a day ahead of you. Coffee comes hot or iced. Pastries only have a lifespan of three days. Cream or milk or skim or soy or whatever dairy the customer asks, it's all labeled. Don't be that asshole who puts dairy in a non-lactose customer's drink."

"Got it."

"We aren't a drive through Starbucks, no worries about that. Well, let's see, Mario already went over the basics on punching in and out,

"Thing about Malik...He's a great guy. And also, he's missing an arm," Ezio said. "You're not gonna be a dick about it, right?"

"I would never."

Ezio's expression brightened. "Va bene!"

"Your uncle is the owner here, right?" Connor asked.

"Si, Auditore. From my father's side," Ezio said, tying back his apron. "He didn't really ask for a lot of experience,"

"You see, my uncle understands that we students do not have the time to formally train. So, trial and error,  _amico_. We train on the job and we get it done," Ezio said. "So, you should be in good hands."

"I will be working with...Altair, was it?"

"Oh."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no, he's just a bit of an asshole. But I think you knew that already."

Connor didn't know how to respond to that.

* * *

Already knowing what was coming, Malik sighed and rubbed his temples. Work hadn't even started, but he could just feel it. The stress. The frustration, the incoming...

"You're late!"

Annnnnnd there it was.

Not bothering with the hello, "What news, novice?" Malik said.

At the counter, Altair stood with that obnoxious cloud of outright confidence and arrogance. Right. That was what he was. An actual, arrogant asshole, that even to this day, Malik didn't know how they were still friends. And it's funny considering that said asshole in the apron was his best friend and the one who helped him move into a new apartment the night before.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Malik Al-Sayf, finally gracing us with his presence! Twenty minutes late!" Altair exclaimed.

Annoyed, Malik rolled his eyes. "Eat a dick, son of no one," he grumbled, waving Altair away. He was too tired for this, and that bastard should be thankful that he wasn't awake enough to actually get mad as of right now.

"Quite unprofessional for someone who is the manager to show up LATE,"

"Remember Altair, I am your paycheck," Malik said. "As of matter of fact, I am everybody's paycheck."

"Mmm oh my god, stop fucking lyinnng," Altair muttered under his breath,

"More of a pain in the ass if you ask me."

At the counter, Desmond handed Malik a foam cup filled with caramel mocha, his favorite. Malik was thankful to have at least one competent employee on deck.

"How did moving in go?" Desmond asked.

"Like you'd expect, exhausting," Malik said, setting down his briefcase on the counter, taking in a deep breath of the hot coffee in his hand. Yes, this is what he needed.

"Who's this kid?" he gestured to Connor.

"That's our newbie, Connor,"

"Ah, a novice then."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Connor is under my protection. I am not going to allow you to taint him," Ezio said,

"I...I don't need protecting," Connor said, uncomfortably.

"You will, from this guy."

Altair scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Ezio, that was over two years ago. Are you seriously not letting it go?"

"You made me cry in front of Claudia."

_Who the hell is Claudia?_

"Alright you millenial meme loving fucks, quit dicking around and be productive members of society! It's opening time!" Malik called out.

"Good luck," Desmond said to Connor, walking to the kitchen.

* * *

_Three months prior…_

"Alright man, please don't lie to me because everyone I have asked has skirted around the question like the flu," Desmond pleaded.

"I mean, if your question was wanna find out how big my dick is, I would skirt around it too, no one wants to see your junk."

"I" Desmond stopped. "Clay, what the  _fuck_ "

"I know right, why the fuck is society so obsessed with dicks"

"That wasn't even...Ugh, fuck you. Anyways, my question was what are the chances of the bar being back up again someday?" Desmond asked.

Clay took a drag of his cigarette, letting some smoke out. "A huge never."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, fam. Apparently, aside from not paying the IRS, or FBI, I don't fucking know, Boss had done some shady shit."

"How shady?"

"Shady enough to not allow to even look at a bar ever again without crying."

Desmond sighed, "Damn."

Clay patted Desmond's shoulder, an attempted gesture of comfort. "Chin up, man. At least you've got a chance of getting another job. Maybe at another bar," he suggested.

"That was the only bar nearby," Desmond said flatly. "The rest here are frat bars and I don't want to hurt myself that way."

He had known the owner personally. Family friend, hiring him under the conditions that he wouldn't drink on the job. While he followed the rules, Desmond still managed to sneak a few beers with Clay after work anyways. But that was about it. He took in the scenery of the thudding music, the cold of the drinks, but overall, the distraction of the outside world even if it was for one night.

And now, that one place of solitude and somewhat decent income was shut down.

Thing was that he needed a job. Shit, they all needed a job.

"How about that tea shop? The Cuppa thingymajig place or something."

"And have to see that asshole Shaun? Um no thanks."

Clay tapped his chin thoughtfully, thinking for a minute before asking, "Doesn't your roommate work at Starbucks?"

"Altair?"

"Beats me," Clay shrugged. "I don't know your friends that well. It's the one who's always angry," he paused then added, "The dick."

"Oh yeah, Altair. And yeah, he works there. So does Malik."

"His notboyfriend?"

Desmond sighed, rubbing his face. "I need new friends."

"No, you need a new job."

Desmond groaned. He used his hand to scrub at his face, too damn tired to even try to one up that.

"That too."

* * *

Sometimes, Desmond just really enjoyed messing around with Altair, a practice that was seen as dangerous, but it was so much  _fun._

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"I'm gonna regret answering this."

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" Desmond repeated.

"Does God hate me so much that I am stuck with you?"

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"For fuck's sake,  _why_?" Altair asked, annoyed.

"To get to the idiot's house," Desmond didn't wait for Altair's responding groan before he said, "Knock knock-"

It took Altair a few seconds to recognized the idiot in context was him.

"Listen here you little shit," Altair practically growled. "I've had it up to here with your bullshit. Do you know who I am?"

"A dick."

"I will throttle you."

"No, you won't."

"I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad,"

"Yes, we know. I am Desmond Miles,"

"I'm going to kick you out into the street."

"But who would pay that share of the rent?"

Altair groaned, rubbing his temples and glaring at Desmond. "I fucking hate you," he said, irritated.

Desmond grinned to himself, "I know."

* * *

"Sooooo, how was the first day?" Clipper asked.

"It was quite the experience," Connor said, for the lack of a better word.

"Define experience," Clipper said.

"Um….I'm not sure why they're all still working there still."

"That bad huh?"

"No, no, it's just….really weird," Connor paused, wondering what was the right example to use to show the strangeness of the whole thing. But frankly, he couldn't find any.

"Oh….Yike."

"Yeah," Connor sighed. "Yike."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better than nada, fam, better than nothing. Sorry, half awake. Comments are welcomed!


	3. MARIA YES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor still didn't know what the actual hell the class was. He was just so thankful that it was over. He couldn't stand the physical suffocation of stuck up condescension anymore. It was like he was having lunch with his father again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I have had this chapter in the works for a long time and I’m very excited. It’s one of my favorite parts to write. Inspired by that great tumblr post. Too much fun to write! And Maker's breath, over 1123 hits! Thank you all for the kudos and subscribing! Enjoy!

Maria Thorpe was many things. A dedicated student, a great friend, also an athlete in a variety of sports. A frequent sleeper on Malik's couch, to the point she kept a drawer of her things in his restroom.

Maria and Malik were the best of friends. It was rather contradicting. People expected them to be the last of them to interact with each other. But they had been childhood friends. Maria had the wit to counter Malik's snark, the patience to hear him out. It was a good friendship.

They were the most platonic couple there was, and Maria would never trade it for the world.

Which set the scene.

Malik was already up, looking at his laptop for the daily stocks and finances reporting from Wall Street. He was the prime example of a busy and productive student. Two slices of toasted wheat bread and a half finished turkey sausage, warm mug of coffee and a maroon sweater. Unlike Desmond, who lived on cereal and orange juice, Malik took his time to make the most important meal of the day one of the best he will have.

In the living room, a lumpy bundle of blankets were on the couch. One cushion was on the ground, a bag next to it. Under the bundle, Maria emerged, yawning. She glanced at her phone and bolted out of the couch.

"SHIT!"

"Well, good morning to you too," Malik sipped at his mug as she ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

At the table, Malik looked up and saw her pull on some shoes and throw her bag over her shoulders. "I thought you were already in class," he said.

"I overslept!"

"Told you that you shouldn't stay up on Sundays."

She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a messy pony tail.

"You have Vidic on Mondays," Malik said. Realization and slight horror set into his face. "Wait, is this the class with the professor that won't mark you late if you're there before him?"

"Yeah,"

"The one on the fifth floor from Science?"

"Yeah."

"...Oh god, Maria  _no_."

"MARIA YES!"

Maria tugged on her boots and zipped on her jacket.

"Don't do it, Maria!"

"I'm going to do it! I value my education!" Maria threw her phone into her backpack and zipped it up.

"Maria, you could die!"

"No, I could fail!"

Maria grabbed the toast on Malik's plate and ran out, calling out "Lock up when you leave!"

"I LIVE HERE!"

* * *

In college, most classes didn't have an attendance policy. It was more of a "You don't show up, too bad, we're still getting paid" mindset there.

However, some classes had a strict "No tardies, no excuses" policy. It always depended on the professor. But depending on who you asked, Professor Vidic was either one of the best or one of the worst professors you would have.

But he had a certain policy many other professors didn't have: you would not be counted late if the professor wasn't there yet.

Maria was infamous for being terrible at time keeping but damn good at being the number one parkour master on campus. She was athletic, actually living on campus from getting full ride. Since it was off-season for basketball, she spent a good chunk of her spare time at the gym. But aside from that, she did exercise by a variety of things. She jogged around campus with Aveline, making fun of underclassmen. Occasionally played basketball with Altair or Desmond, and kicked their asses at it every time. Even as a kid, she was involved with sports, not letting others tell her not to do it. The tomboy, athletic streak that no one could contain.

And of course, there was running across campus to get to class on time.

Some of the people that already knew her didn't bother to wave. Instead, they just stepped out of the way and let her through. People on benches saw her coming and just scooted away to let her jump over.

As the building made way into her line of vision, she could see the professor getting out of his car and locking it.

Taking a deep breath, she ran towards the building and jumped up onto the wall, getting a good grip as she scaled the building to the fifth floor.

* * *

"Again, Maria? Again?!"

"Move it, Altair."

Maria had climbed the building. Again.

"Are you going to do this every time?" Altair asked.

"Yep."

Altair let out a long groan before Maria kicked the back of his seat.

* * *

The professor made his way into the classroom with a cast on his ankle, but otherwise looking fine.

"Altair, back once again."

"Not like I had much of a choice. You're the only one who teaches this class," Altair snarked.

"Charming as always,"

"Maria Thorpe," Dr. Vidic glared daggers at the girl that climbed the window.

"Dr. Vidic."

"One of these days, you will get caught."

"I got to class on time, Doc. I don't see the problem."

Dr. Vidic sighed. "It's too early, so we will ignore it. Well, students, it seems that we have a new student joining us."

Connor awkwardly felt himself slide further down his seat.

Dr. Vidic looked down at his roll sheet and frowned a little bit. He looked at it more closely.

Shit. Connor knew that look. It was the look many teachers in his life time got when they saw his name on the roll.

Dr. Vidic slowly began with, "Ratoh..."

No.  _No._ The times of someone butchering his name on the roll sheet were over.

Connor didn't let him finish. Already used to years of mispronunciation, he raised his hand and stopped the professor, saying "Connor. Just Connor. I go by my middle name."

"Well, that makes things easier for me," Dr. Vidic said, relieved. "But I am intrigued. Your last name is Kenway. Are you by any chance related to Professor Kenway?" he asked.

"Yes sir. He's my father," Connor said, already expecting the question. There was only two Kenways on campus, that being Connor and his dad. Both his aunt and mother refused to take the Kenway last name.

Aside from the typical text of acknowledging they were both alive and not in a ditch, Connor avoided all kinds of interaction with his father. The only Kenway that Connor considered himself close to was his grandfather who lives in the Bahamas, sipping rum out of a coconut and running a small successful villa that rhymed with iguana.

_Jesus, this family is a goddamn mess._

"Your father is a brilliant man. You have a lot to live up to."

 _Bluntly said_ , Connor thought to himself with an internal eye roll. "I've been told, sir," he said as respectfully as possible, hoping to not have him hear the dripping sarcasm. Like hell he would try and be like his dad.

With a satisfied nod, Dr. Vidic continued with the role sheet.

* * *

Connor still didn't know what the actual  _hell_ the class was. He was just so thankful that it was over. He couldn't stand the physical suffocation of stuck up condescendence anymore. It was like he was having lunch with his father again.

"I didn't know Connor was your middle name," Altair said to him after class.

"Yeah, my first name is Ratonhnhaké:ton," Connor said.

"Repeat it again?"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," Altair repeated to himself, the pronunciation almost right, save for a few vowels. "Okay, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Yeah, I'm Mohawkan."

"That's cool," Altair said. "Hey, I'm Syrian. I know what it's like to having your name butchered by white men. Alitar Almayba, Alabama, even Mufasa, I've heard it  _all_  in my years of American public education,"

At that, Connor let out a small laugh. "You and me both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was sooooooooooooo much fun to write. Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	4. Romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio falls - literally- in love. Like he actually falls oh my god, there's coffee everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2:12 AM, this might be OOC but I'm sleepy and tired and feeling super gay so enjoy this memetic fuckery

Thing was that Ezio gets distracted.

Which, of course, he missed the fact that his shoe lace was untied.

There was no warning, not time to see the wet floor sign. Which meant, of course, that while he was picking up the unused mugs that a group of customers had left earlier with unfinished coffee, he just had to trip and spill three of coffee onto himself and the poor student that had the misfortune of being in his way.

=O=

" _Merde, merde,_ _Mi dispiace molto!"_ Ezio blurted out, not realizing that he was speaking Italian until the stranger replied with " _E ' stato un incidente, non ti preoccupare_."

_It was an accident, don't worry._

Ezio felt his face burn as he finally made eye contact with the stranger.

_Madre di Dio._

With blue eyes and blonde hair, the amount of beauty Ezio felt that he was witnessing as that moment, was the stranger he had spilled coffee in. He had a face that was something right out of the Renaissance. Oh god. Oh god. Oh  _god._

He was beautiful.

Ezio was rendered speechless and oh shit, he forgot both English and Italian for a few flustered moments. "I'm so sorry," Ezio continued apologizing.

"It's alright, I'm sorry for not looking," the stranger continued and son of a bitch, his voice was nice too.

At the front counter, Altair was watching from the cash register with an unaware Connor at his side, spraying down a sticky counter that had been the result of a slight spill earlier when a student was in a rush.

"Hey, Counter Kenway," Altair elbowed Connor. "Look."

No longer minding the nickname that had been imposed upon him by the other barista, Connor looked up and followed the direction of Altair's thumb to see Ezio with an apron and white shirt that was covered in spilled of various shades of coffee: caramel, iced, dark roast,  _everywhere_. More of the mess was on the floor and on the customer.

"Jeez, just how much coffee did he spill?" Connor asked.

Altair shook his head. "No,  _look,"_ he emphasized. " _Look_  at Ezio."

Connor didn't understand and continued looking, noting just how far the spill went under a few neighboring tables near the Italian barista.

"Oh man, that  _is_ a lot of coffee. Do we have some clean shirts in the back?" Connor asked.

"Damn it, Connor! Look at  _Ezio._ "

"I am looking at him!" Connor exclaimed.

Altair groaned and said, "Dude, no.  _Look_ at Ezio. Look at  _his_ face."

Following his co-worker's emphasis, Connor looked again into the same direction and finally realized what he meant.

" _Oh_."

Instead of the suave and upbeat Ezio he was used to seeing around the shop, he witnessed a very new version of him. To his shock, a very flustered Ezio was blushing, his cheeks bright as tomatoes as he stuttered out an apology, or what seemed by the looks of it. All forms of charm that came with Ezio Auditore were gone.

Connor watched as the Italian barista tried to stand up, only to slip forward and on top of the customer, and cause him and the customer to fall again.

The customer in question was rather new, Connor not seeing him around before. Blond hair and blue eyes, he had a handsome complexing and easygoing smile, taking the accidental spill in stride.

"Look at him," Altair said. "Oh my god, just look at how  _helpless_ he is. Oh man, it's done. It's already done," he raised both of his hands in the air in faux resign.

"What?" Connor asked, confused. The only thought aside from seeing Ezio were a faint echo of Desmond's words from a few weeks ago when , "Why is everyone so weird here?"

"He's so far gone, man. Look at him," Altair said. "So far gone."

"Altair, what are you talking about?"

"Ezio fell in love," he remarked.

Connor didn't know how to answer that.

Seeing his hesitance, Altair crossed his arms and said, "Counter Kenway, take one good look at Ezio and tell me that guy has not fallen head over heels at the customer already," Altair said.

"Oh shit, you're right."

Altair smirked a little bit. "I always am. Names for the three drinks should be on the clipboard hanging on the wall in the kitchen, so get Dez to refill them again. Whichever the name of the customer was that Ezio is fixing to marry, it's on the house. I'm gonna get a mop before Ezio continues to embarrass himself some more," he walked around Connor and into the back.

Connor pulled up the names and took the orders and Desmond followed, drinks served to the respective customers.

"Yep, Ezio is so far gone," Desmond admitted.

"How do you guys know that Ezio is that into the guy already?" Connor asked.

"I've known him for a very long time now," Desmond said. "Same with Altair. We've had seen and done our share of some crazy shit," he said. "Ezio's romantic life is definitely one of them."

=O=

Finally managing to stand up, Altair moved Ezio out of the way, unknowingly pushing him closer to the customer.

"Move it Auditore, we don't need another victim to slip in your hot mess."

"What's your name?" Ezio asked the customer.

"Leonardo."

" _Buongiorno_ , my name is Ezio Auditore. May I ask, you're Italian?"

" _Si_ , Tuscany."

"Oh, that's great! I'm from Firenze. Again, I am so sorry this happened."

"It isn't a problem. It's only a shirt, and washing machines do exist," Leonardo smiled. "If it takes a spill for us to meet, then it would have been worth it."

With a small smirk to himself, Altair continued mopping.

_I'm not even Ezio, but I might just have to agree._

=O=

For lunchtime, the coffee shop was closed for an hour.

In the small staff lounge, Connor sat at the round table by the refrigerator and ate the sandwich that Desmond had bought for lunch for the group. A solid routine when the group wasn't broke was to all pitch and have one of them bring lunch. Already, the sandwich shop down the road was used to their orders, considering the Starbucks employees as regulars.

Desmond sat down on the couch and looked through his phone, briefly glancing up as Altair threw away his sandwich wrapper by shooting it into the trash can.

He only let out a groan as Altair sat down on Desmond's lap, the latter too used to this.

"Really, man?" he asked. "There's at least three chairs in here and you sit on me."

"You're comfortable."

"Jeez Altair, use the couch for once."

"I'm good, fam."

Desmond resigned and sighed, annoyed as he return to scrolling through his phone one handed, the other currently immobile behind Altair's back on his chest.

"Okay Ezio, before you try to deny anything, let me just say the following; that had to be  _the_ gayest shit I have ever seen," Altair said. "And I know Maria Thorpe, so that's saying something."

"I have no idea of what you're talking about," Ezio said.

"Wow, you didn't even regard the thing I just said. Well, whatever, but yeah, that's a lie," Altair said. "The blond guy today. Holy shit. He was hot."

"The blond guy has a name. He is Leonardo and he's from Italy," Ezio said calmly. "It isn't every day you meet someone from home."

"Is he also from Florence?" Desmond asked.

"No. He's from Tuscany, but he lived in Firenze and Venezia for a while."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Leonardo da Vinci?" Altair asked.

"I think that's the only Leonardo on campus," Desmond noted.

"That guy has  _amazing_ art," Altair said. "I'm not lying, it is the best art I have ever seen. Aside from the coffee scented enactment of the Shakespearean classic of Romeo and Juliet famously depicting  _love_ at first sight."

Ezio shrugged and walked across the room to the fridge. "Like I said, no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course, you knuckle heads are in here," Malik said as he walked into the lounge.

"We're taking our lunch break. And you missed it. Ezio is in love with Leo the art student."

"Does it look like I care? Tell me, does it? No, Altair. Lunch break that ended twelve minutes ago," Malik snapped, irritation all too evident in his voice. "How about you novices get back to work?"

"We're just messing around, man," Altair said to Malik.

"Whatever," Malik rolled his eyes and left the lounge.

"He's not a homophobe, if you were wondering," Altair said to Connor, noting his bewildered expression. "Fuck no, he's best friends with Maria and she is the _biggest_ homosexual there is. He's just grouchy," he remarked. "Oh shit, Dez, you _did_ give him his coffee, didn't you?"

"I did," Desmond said,still sitting behind him. "I gave him his caffeine fix, so I'm not one to blame."

"Oh thank God."

"It's a cloudy today," Connor said, speaking for the first time since lunch had started. "My mom would tell me that people can sometimes be upset and their mood would be worse because of the weather. Maybe that can be it."

As Desmond shoved Altair off and returned to retrieve his apron, it was then when Altair figured, just how much it was going to bother him not knowing what made Malik upset.

=O=

Altair ended up meeting Malik at his apartment after work.

Well, more like he showed up and Malik let him in anyways. Best friends often did that, and even before Malik moved into his new place, Altair practically lived with him anyways. Hell, even before  _college,_ Altair was everywhere with him. Just as close that Malik was with Maria, he was that level of closeness with Altair, except that Altair came first before her. Altair was the childhood friend and rival that he grew to befriend, and at one point, grew to hate, then to befriend again, and finally, to become best friends.

And here they are now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Altair asked.

"Nothing."

"That's bullshit, okay? That is a lot of bullshit."

"Don't bother."

"Malik."

"Don't worry about it," Malik said, giving a weak attempt of shoving Altair, but to his chagrin, the other man didn't budge.

" _Malik_."

"Saying my name over and over as a response is not going to work."

"Mal."

_Shit._

Malik didn't know what made him stop trying to go away. He didn't know if it was the fact that he was trying hard to not let himself start crying, of all fucking things, at the presence of Altair wanting to know what was going on, or the fact that Altair called him by a nickname that only  _two_ people in the world used for him, one who was currently in high school and living at home in with his mother.

Kadar had started calling him Mal since he was a baby. He couldn't pronounce Malik or Altair's names right, with the end result being the nicknames Mal and Alty. Kadar still called him Mal.

Altair hadn't called him Mal in years.

His shoulders slumped, Malik letting out a small, shaky sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"It's so stupid."

"It can't be stupid if it's making you this upset." Altair kneeled down across from him on the floor.

His fist tightened into a tight, so tight grip. His nails dug into his skin, tired muscles straining at the force of it. He knew marks would be there, ugly red ones that stung every time he tried to move them.

Then he felt it.

Two hands gently enclosed around his fist, working to untighten it. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that it was Altair.

_Fuck._

"Mal."

"Some assholes made fun of me this morning because of my arm," Malik managed to choke out. He blinked back tears, because no, he wasn't crying, he was _not_ going to cry over something this  _stupid._

"Who were they?"

Malik noticed that he didn't ask what they said. Didn't question the validity of it, didn't ask why they would say it. It's happened before on the few occasions Malik had tried to tell someone else that wasn't Altair about the insults he had gotten throughout the course of his life. Rather than questioning what or why, Altair questioned the who.

The tone Altair had taken was different, much more different, a slight snarl with the evident bleeding edge of defense

"Altair-"

"Who were  _they_?"

"Some idiot freshmen, don't bother-"

"It does bother me. A lot, actually."

"It's stupid."

"Mal, they hurt you," Altair said firmly. "That bothers me enough. They hurt you verbally on  _purpose_ , which pisses me off even more. That's plenty a reason to get back at them."

"Please don't."

Some of the fatal flaws in the trifecta of Altair were evident. His arrogance, for one. He was arrogant, cocky when he shouldn't be, too proud to admit he needs help until he's on the floor dying. The other was his seemingly carelessness he had in regard for things.

But the biggest one was his protection.

He was so damn protective. The amount of fights he got in just to defend Malik, the amount of times it was  _him_ who pulled him out of hazard's way.

"As much as it pains to hear what they said, fighting them is not worth getting expelled for."

_Ha fancy coming from me._

Altair's greatest blessing was the heart he had for his friends. It was hidden, deeply hidden, extremely deeply hidden that sometimes Malik wasn't even sure it even existed, but it was there. His heart and dedication to his friends was Altair's greatest blessing-but also his greatest flaw. He was selective about who he would protect to the highest degree. He was too caught up in his emotions, too damn caring.

As it was now.

That morning, it had pissed Malik off to no end. He was furious, taking his time to get to the Starbucks, managing a stoic, neutral face that he had in the mornings. The coffee didn't alleviate the frustration, and it was only when he was behind the door of his small office that he could actually let himself finally react to that the fucking _asshole_ said. By react, he broke a few pens in the process of finishing what was left of his assignment.

Later on, the anger had blurred into the background, but fuck, the insult still  _hurt._

He had gone  _this_ long without having to deal with any sort of comment of his missing arm. People got the hint; he didn't wanna talk about it. They actually, for the first time since high school, minded their own fucking business. His life was going swimmingly, damn fucking  _peachy_ , for once in a long time, and one asshole just had to ruin it. Of course, he let  _one_ asshole ruin it, and perfect, it just showed how fucking weak he really is.

"Trust me, Altair. Have I been able to fight, I would have fought the bastards on sight by your side."

"Then let me take care of them."

"Altair,  _no._ "

And now, this. This had to happen. Altair had to show up at his apartment, Altair just had to be  _himself,_ Altair just had to be the goddamn frustration that Malik had in this life.

It frustrated him just how impacting Altair really was on his life. How one word, one _touch_ from him could break down his walls. It frustrated him so much.

Eventually, Altair let go of his hand and shifted over to sit next to him, arm to arm. Malik could feel the warm from Altair, the strong yearning to just  _feel_ it. Feel it be.

Malik felt the feeling of resignation just...be. Nothing to hold back, nothing to hide, as much as he wanted to. As much as he  _tried_ to.

His heart skipped a few thousand beats as Altair shifted again to wrap an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer. Shit. It had been so long since they were this close, so  _long._

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," Altair said softly.

"I feel like shit for just  _existing._ "

"Well I don't. I'm glad you're here," Altair said. "Who else am I going to bother with memes in the middle of the night?"

"There's Desmond."

"Desmond is not you. He isn't relatively closer to you. Nothing can replace your cranky old man tendencies with ugly sweaters."

At that Malik let out a tiny laugh and eventually smiled. "You're an asshole."

Like clockwork, Altair laughed and replied with, "I am. But I'm your asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcomed!


	5. Of Coffees and Kenways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, tests were really one huge puzzle for Desmond to figure out and he liked figuring out puzzles. He didn't like testing; being confined in one place was annoying enough, now he had to do it in silence with a crucial exam that would determine his final grades for the grading period. But luckily, it wasn't too much of a hassle.
> 
> "How you are an amazing test taker is beyond my range of comprehension," Altair stated.
> 
> "A lot of things are beyond your range of comprehension. Like acknowledging you have a crush on Malik."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 1 am and im supposed to be packing for college move in, but inspiration struck so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ #fuck it
> 
> i had a lot of fun writing this chapter, it essentially wrote itself, but it was legit and gr8
> 
> i don't own assassin's creed, enjoy!

Of Coffees and Kenways

* * *

The television was old, a 2006 flat screen model that cost fifteen bucks at a garage sale the summer before Altair and Malik went off to college. They did their shopping together for the essentials, like bed sheets and supplies.

Altair searched through the DVD boxes while Malik prepared two frozen halal meals in the microwave oven. They weren't like the homemade meals that Malik's mom or Altair's grandmother did, but they still did the trick. Altair kept a few in Desmond's mini fridge.

The sadness wasn't gone; one can't just recover from being insulted about their body right away. But it diminished somewhat.

"You have an entire box dedicated to Law & Order."

"Special edition," Malik corrected. "If you address Law & Order in this pure home, you address it correctly. I have an entire box dedicated to the _franchise._ "

"I figured you would still like other cop-criminal stuff. Like Criminal Minds."

"I have the DVDs too, just regular edition. I respect Criminal Minds," Malik said. "It has so many unique episodes and the characters are good. Obviously not Law & Order good, but still good."

"Graceland?"

"Ehhh, just the first season."

Malik sounded so fucking nonchalant about the listing of names. Good thing. That meant he wasn't aware that Altair was reading a list of shows off his phone.

"Without a Trace?"

"Cliche, in my opinion."

"Dexter?"

"That's not even a cop show, Altair. That's just murder."

"Hannibal?"

"That's also murder, by the way. Cannibalism no less."

"Rizzoli & Isles?"

"Yes, I love the lesbians."

Altair smirked, knowing Malik's response to the next show.

"CSI: Miami."

"Fuck no! We don't talk about that shit!"

Halfway through their dinner and the first season of Law & Order, Altair realized that all Malik had done was talk about the fallacies from the defendant's in the court case shown in one episode.

"Dude, I think your dinner went cold."

"It doesn't make sense. Evelyn is guilty. It's damn obvious."

"Who the hell is Evelyn?"

"Have you not been following along the case?"

"I just really like criminal justice," Malik said. "There's so much more to it than meets the eye. Investigation, what comes after, dealing with the evidence. It's an interesting way to deal with the world."

"How come you didn't major in it?"

Malik ignored the question and ate the cold chicken bites.

"Oh," Altair said. "It's because of your dad."

Altair already figured it out. He continued and said, "Just because your dad wants you to do business it doesn't mean you should. Especially if you don't want to."

Malik stayed quiet, until he finally sighed and quietly said "You make it sound so easy."

"It is that easy-"

Malik paused the show.

" _No_ , it _isn't_. It really isn't that easy, Altair. Yes, you know my mom and brother, but you don't know my dad," Malik paused. "Well, okay, you _do_ know my dad, you kinda grew up with me about eighty percent of my life. But you don't know know him, like, on a father-son basis." Frustrated with the stumbling of his words, he said, "You know what I mean!"

"I do, don't beat yourself up about it. I mean I will agree that he's at least forty percent more conservative than your mom because he is," Altair said. He had met Malik's father, who was stern and a little bit old fashioned, but nevertheless, still caring for his wife and sons. Altair tolerated the man for Malik and Kadar's sake, but ever since he made the offhand comment that Altair turned out good besides having a dead dad, Altair held him in a much less favorable regard.

Malik's mother was a god-send. She got along really well with Altair's grandmother, to the point they gossiped during the weekdays. Aside from keeping a distance from Malik's dad, it was no secret that the Al-Maysaf household was his second home.

"You got that right," Malik muttered.

"But why would he have an issue on you, an adult, in choosing your education?"

"He wants me to take over the family business. And that according to him, I owe him for being here."

"Mal, that's utter bullshit." "You studied your ass off for the SATs and ACTs and stayed up for weeks to perfect that entrance essay. You got all those scholarships because of your grades. None of that came from your dad. That's all from you."

"Can we please not talk about this? I would really appreciate it," Malik said. "I don't want to think about life. I just wanna watch my favorite TV show with you and forget everything else for a while."

Altair sighed, but he let the subject die for now. "Okay, I won't press on it."

_But it isn't over yet._

* * *

The relationship between Connor and his father was strained and almost absent. Every now and then-every two or four weeks that is-there would be a text of hello, of how life was going, acknowledgment that they were both alive and not dying in a ditch.

Dr. Haytham Kenway, Professor of Archaeology.

He had a rather annoying assistant named Charles Lee. After their brief luncheon the week after school started, Connor was still irritated to think about because it _still_ boiled his blood to think about all the ignorance the man had. Next to Charles Lee, Haytham was practically a saint.

That luncheon lived in absolute infamy. No apology letters could fix the hatred and seething disgust for Charles Lee.

Charles Lee was just a flat out _asshole._ The topic of civil rights came up, and he just had to fulfill the antiquated bigoted view. It was the backhanded compliments and subliminal racism, only to top it off with the patronizing tone.

Thing was that one racist man was already a threat enough to so many. Haytham did not notice, he would not understand it.

It was awful. It boiled his blood thinking that the luncheon even happened.

To his boss's _Mohawk_ and liberal son.

It was the _one_ time Connor had stormed around his dorm room in anger, speaking and cursing in enraged Mohawkian, with a very confused and slightly (very) afraid Clipper watching from the desk.

His mother is not just the strongest and devoted person he knows; she is also the most brutally honest. Years and years of knowing the unfortunate signs of racism, obvious or not, was something Connor had ingrained within him since he was young and could reason. He knew the subtext of prejudice when he saw it. People refusing to even try to pronounce his name, asking if he knew English, if he lived in tepees. It was bullshit.

"I would lessen tensions with a joke, but I am already looking at one," Connor had deadpanned to Charles.

"Son."

"Is your assistant yet another ignorant white man?"

"Funny that you mention that. Does your help wanted sign also include 'be racist and a bigot'? Because from a business standpoint, I have to say, it has been working so far. It really shows the low standards you have in hiring new employees."

"Son, I'm truly sorry."

"We both know you are not."

Charles Lee had one thing set definitely for sure, that without a doubt, Connor could confirm.

He hated Connor.

Another thing Connor was at least 80% sure that Charles Lee had a crush on his father. It was too weird to think about. It was too much of an admiration. _Too_ much. Which didn't make sense with his bigotry, but then again, that man made no sense at all.

From the Kenway family, the only one that Connor could talk to without wanting to tear his _fucking_ hair out was Edward, his grandfather. The eccentric, happy Welshman that made Connor not regret his last name. As for his aunt? She was nice too.

But between them, it was not like the closeness he had with his grandfather. It was basic, really. Just the annual new years, happy birthday and wishing a merry christmas text messages. And aside from those, it was the rare calm interaction every once three or four moons. ("How are you dear?" "Good. And you?" "Good as well." "Glad to hear it.")

His grandfather was the only good thing that came out of being a Kenway.

"Don't trust a white man," his mother had said. "Except your grandfather. He's cool."

Connor waited patiently as Skype connected. He knew for a fact that the Caribbean had excellent WiFi; he had spent dozens of summers with his grandfather and skyping his mother on a daily basis in the evenings. Great Inagua, an island untouched by time, was beautiful, with clear blue waters that Connor swam in daily and deep forests that he spent hours, or even days, hiking and exploring with his grandfather.

The call connected to a slightly blurry screen of an iPad's back camera facing the tidy bed of the master bedroom in the manor. The bright sunshine shone through the terrace/balcony open doors, with the unmistakable beauty that came with the ocean in the distance coming with it.

"How do you work this thing-"

"Wrong way, Grandfather."

"Connor! Okay, I can hear you but you can't see me!"

"It is like an iPhone, grandfather. The little button with the arrows."

The screen briefly blanked out as his grandfather, all in his laugh lines and graying hair glory came into view.

"Ah, Connor! Hello!"

Edward James Kenway was the happiest man he knew. He that started off as a poor man in Wales, working the odd jobs to get some food on the table, eventually progressing and over the years, growing successful.

"Hey grandfather."

"How's my favorite grandson doing?"

"I am your only grandson," Connor said.

"Ever the charmer. So, catch me up! Fill me in on all the hot buzz, the word on the mill, whatever it is you young kids call it these days."

"Grandfather, there is not any."

"There has to be something, lad."

"Well…I got a job."

"Look at you, being an adult! Tell me all about it. Is it on campus?"

"Yeah. Starbucks."

"That's wonderful!"

"How are your coworkers like?"

"...Strange. Strange, yet good. Good strange. I like it there."

Maybe, had his parents' marriage worked out, things would have been much different. Maybe there wouldn't be that huge of a rift between the Kenway family. Maybe his mom would be happier. As much as his mother did not talk about Haytham, she had admitted in the past that she really did love him.

"We had...something. It was a bond, it was there and it was mutual. But overtime, love was lost. His priorities were skewed between family and work," his mother sighed. "He picked work."

Even Aunt Jenny could get a good end of the deal and be more in touch with her father with a positive relationship. Maybe his father would be a decent man. Maybe he would not hate him as much.

But, as his grandfather once said, "Oh laddie, to quote Yoda incorrectly, 'Maybes won't fix what's already done.'"

"Yoda…never said that."

"Incorrectly, Connor. But it sounded like something he would say."

"True. A little bit more backwards though. It is unfair."

"Aye, I know. You don't deserve to be at the brunt of the...drama, if that's the better word for it, of the family. But at the end of the day, Haytham is still my son, whether he likes it or not. And at the end of the day, he is still your _father_ ," Edward said. "Whether _you_ like it or not."

That conversation had been on the evening before Connor's graduation, when Haytham awkwardly showed up to offer his congratulations. It had been a weird family affair, but Haytham didn't remain for more than two hours and he sat a few rows away from Connor's mother and Edward, so it wasn't that bad.

Had June really been only four months ago? When Connor graduated?

"I miss you grandfather."

"Aye, I miss you too, laddie. Not for long, though. November isn't that far, and you know I'm more than ready to bother the old man."

"Achilles is not _that_ old, compared to you, that is."

"Oi! Respect your elders!" Edward said, fake scolding.

Truth was that Achilles Davenport was only two years older than Edward Kenway, yet still as close to Connor's small family. And while his family didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, the November break was used as the time he got to see his grandfather come from the Great Inagua, his mother from the valley and Achilles in the Homestead; the small community in not too far from Rockport, Massachusetts. Untouched by time.

The November break was a chance to see his family in one place and that's all that mattered.

* * *

On Friday morning, Desmond woke up to loud beeping of his phone alarm.

The notifications piled up overnight and he quickly swiped each one away.

Becs: imy

Desmond sighed and typed out a quick response.

**I miss you too pal.** **How's it like working for Bill Gates?**

Becs: To this day, I have only seen him in pictures. And it's not bad. Working for ubisoft has it's perks.

****Microsoft

Damn autocorrect what even is ubisoft

It's a lot of fun! It's tiring too, but it's coding heaven. I'm surrounded by like minded peeps that love coding as much as I do. I love it.

But i miss Eden :( i have been here for six months and i miss it so much.

**I miss you tons.**

Me too Dez :'''(

Desmond smiled sadly and sent a heart emoji in response. He sighed and pulled the blanket over himself.

His best friend, Rebecca Crane, had been away for nearly six months for a coding intership at the main Microsoft campus in Redmond, Washington.

When she got the internship acceptance in January, she had been ecstatic. She along with four other applicants from Eden University would spend six months furthering their skills in coding, and getting more credit for their computer programming major. Housing would be covered, as were travel expenses, it was a pretty solid deal.

It went from weekly Skype calls to just snapchats and text messages because Rebecca was busy as hell. "Microsoft didn't accept me here just to dick around." Not to mention the time difference between Washington and New York was three hours and Desmond liked his sleep.

**wait a sec, its like 4 in the morning over there. why are you awake?**

we finished our final at 2 buuuuuut we drank too much caffeine and we can't sleep. we don't have to show in the morning so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ #fuck it

He was aware that Altair didn't come home last night. All Altair had texted was the words "don't wait up for me" and Desmond knew he spent the night at Malik's. But knowing them, they didn't confess their feelings. They probably just watched movies or argued for a while. He's close to the two of them, but not as close as he is with Rebecca.

Another day, another instance that Altair and Malik didn't confess again.

Not yet, at least.

Then again, Desmond has been saying "not yet" since he met the pair in freshman year of high school. And lo' behold, here they were now. In college.

Both still _oblivious_ to one another.

Everyone knew Altair had a crush on Malik. Everyone also knew that Malik had a crush on Altair.

Of course, Malik and Altair didn't know that. It was ridiculous. They were ridiculous. What the fuck.

Becs: the drama never sleeps; the sable fuckers are mad that we finished our final early. said that we cheated, pulled a bunch of shit, the place was tense at 3am. i mean im not shocked, since they take every chance they get to drag me and the others from eden but at 3am? during crunch time? fuck them.

**What assholes. I'm glad you guys finished though. it sounds stressful.**

Ik. emmett passed out, chewie is playing overwatch and susan is watching a movie. but then again, our coding is better than theirs. we only yelled at 1 duck while finishing up our group final.

The duck thing was probably Desmond's favorite thing in the whole wide world. It's what coders (or whatever people who did coding were called) did whenever we think we find a bug in our code. According to Rebecca, the interns would have rubber ducks on their desks and when there was a glitch in the code, they would have to explain the steps to the rubber duck. Apparently, that was how they picked up their own mistakes as they walked themselves through it. Desmond saw her snapchats of various college students, some of them being his own classmates, cursing at a duck, one famously punching it off the desk. It's seemed silly, but it was actually more useful than asking the supervisor for help.

The Sable Fuckers were the nickname for the four interns that hailed from Sable College, another campus nearby. And for two small schools with the population being less than five thousand, Desmond had to admit that the rivalry between his home campus University of Eden and Sable College was strong.

The Sable Knights versus the Eden Eagles; rivalries in everything that wasn't in sports.

Becs: Two more weeks.

**two more weeks.**

At that, Desmond sent a heart emoji and laid back in bed.

SaltyAlty: I left my key inside, open up.

Buuuuut Desmond was too tired to get up. It was still 7 am. He wanted a few moments of silence.

And for a few minutes, he did.

"Hey asshole, I know you're awake! You opened my snapchat six minutes ago!" Altair exclaimed, his voice muffled by the door.

(The Snapchat being the same message 'I left my key inside, open up' only with the picture of the door.)

_Go awaaaaay._

At the endless knocking, Desmond groaned and got out of bed, messy bedhead in his short hair.

"What do you want?" Desmond asked when he opened the door.

"Damn it Dez, I was about to kick your ass!" Altair walked past him and went to the kitchenette, which was a corner of their tiny apartment.

Desmond rolled his eyes and went into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face. Feeling slightly more decent, he joined Altair in the kitchen.

"You didn't come home last night," Desmond said.

"It isn't none of your goddamn business either."

He wasn't going to be fully awake until he picked up some coffee on the way to class. He grabbed the plastic container with frosted flakes (the knockoff brand) and poured some into a bowl, milk following.

"I won't pry," Desmond took a spoonful from his cereal. Altair grabbed the plastic container with the chocolate chip and a bowl. "That's gross. You're not gonna brush your teeth? Or shower?"

"Malik had a spare toothbrush and I already showered at his place this morning."

Oh god.

He already had a toothbrush at Malik's apartment.

_Oh god._

"Wow."

"What do you mean 'wow'?"

"You really are dense."

"What?" Altair asked.

"Whatever. Hey, isn't that Mal-"

"-Shut it," Altair said, annoyed. "And for the last fucking time, he's not my boyfriend!" He walked past Desmond and to the (mini) fridge to put away the milk.

"...I didn't even ask," Desmond said.

"Well, he isn't. Even if you didn't ask."

Projection.

Desmond sighed and poured milk into his cereal. Altair was saltier than usual, but it could do with the lack of coffee in his system.

"How is he, by the way? He looked upset yesterday."

Altair sighed in response.

"Was it that bad?" Desmond asked.

"He really needs a break. He overworks himself sometimes." Desmond knew that Altair was avoiding a touchy subject.

Altair bowed his head and uttered a few phrases in Arabic, one that Desmond recognized as a brief thank you prayer for his food. He waited until he finished to let him get settled and start talking.

"Who do you have this morning?"

"Vidick for Studies of the Human Cult, then Professor Stone for Literature."

"I'm so glad I don't have to take Vidick," Desmond said. "I hear enough horror stories from you and Maria."

"How were you _spared_ of Human Satan?" Altair asked.

Human Satan? That was new.

"ACT score was a solid 34."

" _Abn aleahira_ ," Altair mumbled under his breath.

Desmond went back to the few phrases he knew in Arabic from Altair and mentally translated it to son of a bitch. He grinned a little bit, continuing to eat.

Truth be told, tests were really one huge puzzle for him to figure out and he liked figuring out puzzles. He didn't like testing; being confined in one place was annoying enough, now he had to do it in silence with a crucial exam that would determine his final grades for the grading period. But luckily, it wasn't too much of a hassle.

"How you are an amazing test taker is beyond my range of comprehension," Altair stated.

"A lot of things are beyond your range of comprehension. Like acknowledging you have a crush on Malik."

"Ha! I'll do that whenever you admit you wanna fuck Shaun."

Desmond ignored that.

"So you _do_ have feelings for Malik."

"I never said I did."

"Uh, yeah. 'I'll do that.' That. As in, you're gonna do it."

"You're pulling apart my sentences now? Which screenshots did Lucy send you this time to drag me like this?"

"This is a verbal conversation."

"You have feelings for Malik."

"You also wanna fuck Shaun."

"I never said I did."

"We're going in circles here," Altair admitted. "And we have places to be."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I'm evading the answer. There's a difference."

Desmond put his bowl in the sink and gave up.

* * *

Dr. Vidic proved to be exhausting and annoying, yet again. Connor's calculus class was soothing, compared to the absolute hell that was Dr. Vidic. One of his classmates, Lucy Stillman, was an afternoon regular with a strong affiliation for iced teas and was often joined by Aveline de Grandpre, another classmate from calculus, who loved fruit smoothies.

On Fridays when their morning and afternoon classes were over, Connor joined Altair and Maria Thorpe for lunch in the cafeteria.

"Remind me just what the actual hell that class is again?" Altair asked. "And how it serves for my education?"

"I have no fucking clue, to this day," Maria said.

"I can only deal with a condescending white man for so long," Connor said to Altair.

"Ugh, me too pal," Altair said with a nod.

"Apparently, he condescends to the staff as well. I've heard other professors talk shit about him," Maria said. "He's one huge asshole outside the classroom too."

"I hope he never walks into Starbucks," Connor said offhandedly.

Suddenly, Altair threw a French fry at Connor. "Don't jinx it, dude! You just don't say shit like that and expect for it to be not jinxed!" he exclaimed.

Luckily, his shift he shared with Altair and Desmond was going to be short; on Fridays, they closed at 6:00. Malik had worked with Mario on the schedule, explaining that most students have plans on Friday nights.

"Come on man, from 2:30 to 6. Shortest shift of the day, we can do this," Altair said to Connor.

"Thank God it's Friday," Maria Thorpe said in relief

Connor barely started the late afternoon shift

"Heads up, Connor," Altair nudged his elbow. "You got a customer."

"Got it."

"Hello son."

And looked right into the eyes of Dr. Haytham Kenway.

_Okay, be cool about this._

Connor is a professional. He was going to be cool about this. He was not going to let that anxiety and distrust that was slowly spiking through his veins ruin it. He was going to treat him like any other customer and be a professional.

"Haytham."

And of course, since life hated him enough already, the environment _had_ to react.

It was already quiet in the coffeeshop, with the small handful of students being in the table area. The custom Spotify playlist of the soft jazz music on the speakers had already ended for a while now, which meant that Ezio forgot to put the small tablet they kept connected to the AUX cord on "Repeat All." The tension had risen considerably in the coffeeshop, especially in the counter area. All conversations had dropped to a minimum.

Connor could see from the corner of his eye that Desmond had frozen, his hand frozen with a white paper towel mid-wipe on the pastry glass case. Altair was standing in silence, arm full of plastic straws.

_Oh god, this is the worst thing to have ever happen in my life._

Haytham felt the awkwardness and cleared his throat, breaking the silence, but nowhere close to breaking the tension.

"I had no idea that you started working here," he said, like he was talking about the weather.

Of course. That was the entire point of not keeping in touch with someone; you did not want them to know what you were doing.

"I started about a month ago," Connor said cooly.

"How is it like?"

"I like it here," Connor said simply. He changed the topic and hit clear on the register, preparing the screen for a new order. "So, may I take your order?"

"So that's how it is," Haytham said but moved on. "Two venti black mochaccinos."

Hah. Black. Tasteless-Like his soul.

"Would that be all?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Haytham sighed, "If you're still upset about the luncheon, Charles is deeply sorry."

The mention of the disastrous dungeon sent spikes of anger through his veins. No. Charles Lee was _not_ sorry. He is an unapologetic racist and a literal disgrace.

"There is not a single universe in existence that will have me forgive the man. He hates me, I hate him. It really is not that hard to understand, Haytham."

Luckily, Haytham looked too tired to argue back. "Would it kill you to call me dad?" Haytham asked.

"Probably. Your total is 7.59."

Haytham sighed again and pulled out a neat ten dollar bill, dropping the subject.

At least that was one thing that Connor liked about his dad; when the subject was a dead end, it was dropped. It would not be pressed on anymore, at least not in the same occasion that it was brought up.

Connor handed Haytham his change in silence and wrote his name on both cups, stacking them together and writing the abbreviated order of the coffee on a sticky note, passing them to Altair. He took a short breath and put on a smile, turning to face the next customer, relieved to see Lucy.

"Hey Luce. The usual for you and Aveline?"

"Please."

* * *

Once the professor left the coffee shop with a brief thank you and two cups in hand, Connor sighed in relief, feeling his muscles relax from the tense posture he was not aware he was holding.

He let out a short breath and sat down on the stool that Mario let them use behind the register. God, his dad being here must have been worse than he let himself think; his legs were shaking too hard to stand anymore.

_Okay, breathe in slowly. In and out. 1, 2, 3._

"Damn...That was cold blooded," Altair commented. "Remind me to _never_ piss you off, Counter."

"Your dad is Professor Kenway?" Desmond asked.

Connor flinched. "Unfortunately."

"May your grade rest in pieces."

Connor scoffed with a slight eye roll. "Please. I do not take his class. I actually love myself."

"Uh oh, better watch out if Shaun is around," Altair said. "Historian nerd would lose his shit."

"Who is Shaun?"

"Desmond's crush."

"Okay, _can you not?"_

"Am I right or am I right?"

"You're wrong and you're wrong."

"Weren't you the one giving me flack about not being home last night?"

"Okay, now _that's_ a different story. Because you're still wearing the sweater."

Whatever that meant, it obviously ticked something in Altair because his eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms in annoyance.

"Desmond, you're about to become Deadmond if you don't fuck off." And even though it was a death threat, Desmond wasn't intimidated. Or scared. If anything, he rolled his eyes and leaned away from

"Can you maybe chill?" Desmond asked.

"How about maybe YOU chill?" Altair fake taunted. "And go pick up the mugs on the first table?"

"Only if you're washing them," Desmond got the small white towel and slapped it against Altair's arm who caught it in return.

Once Desmond had left the counter to pick up the empty mugs, Altair turned to Connor. "Hey, are you okay, though?" he asked, voice devoid of all jokes. "You look really shaken up."

So he was that obvious.

"My father gives me anxiety," Connor sighed. "But it is nothing to worry about. I appreciate it, though."

"If he turns out to be a regular, we can change turns," Altair suggested.

"I will be fine. Thanks, Altair."

Connor felt a little bit better after that.

* * *

A young woman with short hair and a tight orange and black jacket with matching jeans entered the coffee shop with a tall blond man with glasses following. Before Connor could speak that they were closing in ten minutes, he was interrupted with a loud "Hey Dez! How the fuck are ya?!"

"Holy shit," Desmond said. "Becs!"

Desmond ran around the corner of the counter and met the brunette halfway into a tight hug.

"I thought you were flying in on next Friday!"

"Early release, my dude. So, I decided to surprise you…surprise!"

"I missed you like hell, Becs."

"Well, not anymore, pal. I'm back!"

Altair poked his head outside the lounge. "Could that be? Hacker-blogger-pothead extraordinaire _PeppaBecca_?!"

"Bitch you guessed it!"

Altair grinned and joined the group, giving Rebecca a warm hug.

"SaltyAlty, I missed you like hell. And Malik, my man!"

Malik smiled and let himself be hugged by Rebecca. "I thought I heard your voice."

"Oh hey, sorry big guy. I didn't even introduce myself!" Rebecca stuck out her arm. "I'm Rebecca Crane."

"Connor." When he accepted her handshake, he felt a small pang of surprise at how strong her grip was.

"So you're Connor! I've heard about you! Don't worry, they're all good things," Rebecca grinned. "Since when did you start working with these knuckleheads?"

"Maybe a month."

"Has Altair been an asshole?" Rebecca asked, ignoring Altair's indignant "Hey!" from the back.

Connor smiled, "The usual quota."

* * *

Connor temporally excused himself to go back into the lounge and grab his bookbag that he had left since the afternoon he came in for work.

And returned to a conversastion without context.

"Is Ezio coming?" Desmond asked.

"That's racist," Rebecca chided.

" _You're_ racist," Desmond said.

"So it's final? We're gonna go to the pizza place?" Malik asked, ignoring both of them.

"I'm down," Rebecca leaned onto Desmond, resting her elbow on his shoulder, which proved to be difficult since Desmond was already taller than her. Desmond didn't mind, nodding and saying "Same here."

"I'll put it in group chat," Altair said.

When Altair spotted Connor turning off the lights behind the pastry case. "Do you wanna come, Counter?"

"Where to?"

"We're just going to the pizza place a few blocks down," Desmond said. "It's affordable and they got veggie options."

"The best option, in my opinion," Rebecca said.

"So long as you have ten bucks, you're okay."

"I don't want to feel like I'm intruding."

They were a group of tight knit friends with one returning from an intership across the country, they obviously wanted to catch up.

Which was replied with a series of denials.

"Trust me, man, you won't," Altair reassured.

"Connor, I promise you, you're not. It'll be fun!"

"The pizza is also the best."

It was not like Connor had anything to do anyway.

"...Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all mistakes if any are mine but i'm tired so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ #fuck it
> 
> again, thank you for reading and sticking with me! it's been a blast, and i know that with college starting soon, i'll probably get more inspo there! 
> 
> thank you for reading; comments are always welcome!
> 
> EDIT: HOLY SHIT I UPDATED ON MY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY MOM HOLY FUCK HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS FIC WOWOWOWOW I BARELY NOTICED IT AIN'T THAT SOMETHING?????? THANKS FOR STICKING WITH THIS FIC FOR TWO GLORIOUS YEARS OF MEMEING AND SASSY DIALOGUE Y'ALL ARE THE BEST

**Author's Note:**

> How was that? Were they in character? Havent been to Starbucks in years so hopefully the setting still made sense? Anyways, thank you guys for reading! Comments are so welcome! <3


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